


A Bird of Flame

by TheFinalFrontier87



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Good Mordred, Living Lancelot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFinalFrontier87/pseuds/TheFinalFrontier87
Summary: During The Great Purge, anything related to magic was hunted down and destroyed. Including the last Phoenix... or so it was believed. When an enchanted phoenix arrives in Camelot under strict orders to find and kill Arthur Pendragon, it will take the full effort of all the knights of the round table, and one manservant, to stop it. Merlin AU - Good!Mordred Living!Lancelot





	1. A Shadowy Arsonist

In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name: Merlin.

A dark shadow slipped past Arthur Pendragon's stained-glass window, as silent and deadly as a feared assassin. The darkness halted in midair, turned its head, and beat its wings on the crisp twilight air. The being approached Arthur's window and landed on its sill with its talons scraping the stone. The thing leaned forward, pressing its predatory beak against the window. For a moment, it stayed there. Then the window warped and rippled around the creature, and just as if it were passing through water, it walked through the window. Arthur and Guinevere were as still as stone, dead asleep as the pitch black bird soundlessly approached them. It peered at their sleeping forms, its cold, dead eyes—as soulless as a dead fish's—hovering with malicious intent. It snapped its head back forward and ducked underneath the bed.

Within seconds, the smell of smoke filled the king's chambers.

Arthur was on fire.

* * *

The entire castle awoke before the sun arose, because, it seemed, the king's chambers had been set on fire. Arthur, disgruntled and smelling of wood-smoke, stormed through the halls of the citadel, yelling loudly to awaken his knights and to fetch his servant, Merlin.

A short time later, all the knights, Agravaine, Gaius, Guinevere, and Merlin arrived in the council chambers, blurry eyed and irritable.

"This must be the work of Morgana," said Sir Leon, breaking the silence of the chamber.

"That's absurd!" said Agravaine, his brow crinkling. "What would Morgana gain from attacking Arthur now?"

"Well, he'd be dead, for starters," said Merlin, rubbing his eyes. Agravaine's head swung around to glare at the servant.

"Why is the manservant here? For all we know he could have been the one to attack his majesty."

"Merlin? You think Merlin is clever enough to pull off something like this?" Arthur asked incredulously. "Merlin? Really? He couldn't even get water to put out the fire in my room before half my belongings burned down."

"We get your point, Arthur," Merlin scowled. He was still not particularly pleased that he was up at such a painfully early time.

"It couldn't have been Merlin. He was with me until late last night. He wouldn't have had the time," Lancelot pointed out, shifting any blame from the servant.

"Oh really? And how do we know that you weren't involved in this as well? You could have been acting as an accomplice," Agravaine accused, pointing a finger in Lancelot's direction.

"Uncle, that is enough. None of my knights had anything to do with this; you know that. And Merlin didn't either, for that matter. He's simply not bright enough."

"Gee, thanks," Merlin replied sarcastically. Gwain snickered and Lancelot smirked.

"Of… of course," Agravaine said, inclining his head to his nephew after giving the chuckling knights a wry look. "I'm only trying to eliminate all possibilities."

"And for that, I thank you. But it's obvious that this was the work of sorcery. No one in this room possesses the ability to perform magic."

Merlin and Mordred shot each other a knowing look before quickly averting their eyes.

"This was a deliberate attack at the heart of Camelot. It's a miracle I woke up when I did, or Guinevere and I might not be standing here with you right now."

"But can we be sure that its magic? A candle could have been knocked over, or the manservant could have forgotten to put out the fireplace before retiring for the night," Agravaine said, once again putting blame on Merlin.

"It was magic," Mordred said quickly.

"And how would you know what magic looks like, eh?" Agravaine asked, turning his sharp gaze to the young knight.

Mordred stuttered. "I...uh-"

"Uncle, Mordred probably read something in a book. Don't be so quick to jump to conclusions. Explain, Mordred."

"I was the first to reach your chambers. Well, first after Merlin got there. But I got a glimpse of the… thing… that attacked you. It was alive."

The round table erupted into gasps of alarm.

"Alive? What do you mean alive?" Elyan said, tightening his grip on his sister's shoulders protectively.

"It had wings and it was flying. I didn't really get a good look at it."

"Merlin, you arrived in my chambers before Mordred did. Did you get a good look at the creature?" Arthur asked.

"No, I didn't."

"What do you mean you didn't?"

"I mean I didn't see it. I'm sorry, but I was a little distracted by you flailing your arms about and shrieking like a maiden."

Arthur's face morphed into an angry expression. "Excuse me, Merlin?"

"Pardon me, I was a little distracted by you bravely flailing your arms about and shrieking like a maiden, my lord."

Arthur closed his eyes, and Merlin knew that he was most likely planning exactly how long he was going to order him in the stocks. All around the table, the knights erupted into laughter. They knew that Merlin was no ordinary servant to the king, and so these moments of them teasing each other happened frequently. Agravaine, however, did not seem as pleased.

"You let him speak to you like this?" Agravaine asked, appalled.

"This is normal," Gwaine said, and he smiled devilishly, "More entertaining than any play I've ever seen."

"You've never been to a play," Percival pointed out, but a smile was creeping up his lips.

"Why go see a play when you can watch this anytime for free?"

Gwen raised her voice over the knights, "I'm sorry, but can we focus on the matter at hand, please?"

"Of course. Guinevere is right. We need to focus," Arthur said, shaking himself out of a daydream.

"If this truly was an act of magic, then it must have been of the most powerful sort," Gaius mused.

"What, a few little sparks are considered dark and powerful magic? You could create the same reaction with a piece of flint," scoffed Agravaine.

"I'm afraid these were no mere sparks, sire. There is only one creature that I can think off that matches young Sir Mordred's description," Gaius said solemnly, opening the book in his hands. He turned to a page that depicted a large hawk-like creature made of flames. "A phoenix."

A tense feeling of unease covered the room like a blanket. Phoenixes were creatures to be feared before the time of the Great Purge. Their magical and regenerative abilities made it very difficult to kill, and it was made of fire, and that made it excel at—well—setting things on fire.

"A phoenix? I thought they were all killed during the Great Purge," said Arthur in surprise.

"So did I, sire. So did I," Gaius thoughtfully agreed, raising one eyebrow, as he always did when he was in deep thought.

The room fell silent, until Agravaine spoke once more.

"There is no evidence to support this theory. An extinct bird coming back from the dead, only to fly to Camelot and deliberately attack Arthur? Do you have any evidence to confirm this theory?"

Guinevere spoke. "Does this confirm it?"

In her hands, there was a long feather, as black as ink.

The room fell silent once again.


	2. The Black Phoenix

"You're serious right now? A phoenix? Like, an actual phoenix?" Merlin said excitedly, pacing back and forth across the physician's chambers.

"I fear so," Gaius said softly, not looking up from the feather he held delicately in his hands.

"Then why aren't you excited?" Merlin asked, his eyes still bright with excitement. Phoenixes were magical creatures treasured by both sorcerers and sorceresses. They made loyal companions, and had healing abilities.

"Because I am afraid this is no ordinary phoenix," Gaius said grimly.

The smile immediately slid off of Merlin's face.

"Of course it isn't," he sighed, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation, "it never is ordinary, is it? It can never be easy. Let me guess, it's not actually a phoenix, but an evil sorcerer in disguise? Or, this bird has come back from the dead, swearing revenge upon Uther and its here to kill us all? Or how about-"

"Merlin, cease your yammering and try using your brain usefully for once," Gaius snapped. "Now, tell me. What color is this feather?"

"Black?"

"And what color is a phoenix usually?"

"Um… red?"

"Precisely," Gaius responded. He pulled an old dust book off the shelf and began flipping through its pages.

After Gaius declined to elaborate, Merlin spoke again.

"So… its a black feather. So what? It probably just got blackened in the fire."

"Honestly, Merlin, try opening a book once in a while," Gaius sighed and dumped a heavy book in Merlin's lap. "A phoenix feather cannot burn. That is why whenever a phoenix regenerates it first must shed all of its feathers. The only possible explanation to this an enchantment."

"What kind of enchantment?" Merlin asked hesitantly, reading the text on the heavy book.

"A very dark and powerful one," Gaius responded. "One that would completely take away the bird's free will."

Merlin's lips pursed. The thought of taking away a phoenix's free will was as bad as the thought of it happening to a human. Phoenixes were intelligent and kind creatures.

"How can I break the spell?"

"I don't know. I thought all phoenixes had been killed. I didn't bother to keep up on information about them."

"Well, we have time to learn now, I suppose," Merlin sighed, flipping through the book's pages a little faster. Out of the corner of his eye, Gaius rolled his eyes.

"Merlin, we don't have the time. If this bird is truly being controlled by someone, then that someone will find out the assassination attempt has failed very soon, if he hasn't found out already. He will try again."

"Then we will have to read very quickly." Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and the pages in front of him flipped faster, and his eyes were a blur as he read each page.

Gaius reached out a hand and slammed the book closed. Merlin blinked once, disoriented, and glared up at Gaius. "And what if you can't find a way to break the enchantment? What will you do then?"

"Then I'll go to the source. You said it yourself, Gaius, whoever sent that bird will try to kill Arthur again. I just can't let that happen."

"Are you telling me that you intend to track down a sorcerer by yourself? Have you gone mad?"

"I won't be by myself. I'm sure the knights would just love to come."

"And what do you intend to do when you find the sorcerer? Will you just ask him nicely to release the bird? Or do you intend to fight him? We don't know how to break the enchantment, Merlin?"

"No… but we know somebody who does," said Merlin, and an impish smile curled the corner of his lips.

* * *

"_O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!_" Merlin yelled as he ran into the grove outside of the castle. The night was young and cool, and clouds covered the sky in wide, lazy wisps. The dragon Kilgharrah came from the distance, covering the shrouded moon like a unnaturally large bat. Merlin paced the grove as Kilgharrah approached, his unease and worry evident in his face and in his twitching fingers.

"What is troubling you, young warlock?" the Great Dragon asked, his voice as wise and compassionate as always.

"What do you know about phoenixes?"

"A phoenix, you say? Why would you need to know about phoenixes?" Kilgharrah inquired, confusion shrouding his face.

"One attacked Arthur last night. Gaius and I think that maybe-"

"I was under the impression that they all perished during the great purge. If what you say is true, young warlock, then you must do everything in your power to keep this bird safe. It may be the very last of its kind. Like me." the dragon adopted a mournful expression, but hope glimmered in his eyes. Merlin grimaced and looked away from the dragon.

"Yeah, there's a slight problem about that, seeing as it's… you know… being enchanted to kill everyone."

"Then you must break the enchantment! I do not see the problem, young warlock."

"The problem is I don't know how to break the enchantment!" Merlin protested, his anger hissing through his teeth.

"You have the power inside of you. You can do it if you truly try."

"Yes, but how?"

"That is something you must discover for yourself, young warlock."

"Why can't you just tell me?" Merlin was becoming annoyed. "If I can't break the spell, then I can't protect the bird. And if I can't protect it, it will die!"

"You mustn't let that happen! You're the best wizard of your age. I'm sure you'll find a way."

Before Merlin could protest anymore, Kilgharrah gave him one last meaningful look and took off. As the dragon disappeared into the night, Merlin had to stop himself from commanding it to tell him something useful. He settled for screaming internally and whispering insults at its disappearing form.

Merlin scowled and began to sulk back to the castle. Apparently, he was no closer to breaking the enchantment than he had been that morning.


	3. An Ashen Trail

"Hurry up, Merlin!" Arthur shouted from on top of his horse. The rest of the knights looked amused as Merlin appeared from the castle, stumbling under the weight of the king's luggage.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Merlin shouted, finishing packing their luggage on the horses, avoiding Arthur's disapproving eye.

It was a nice day for a ride. The sky was azure blue, the sun's rays were mild and tinted the castle's windows golden, and the air was fresh with the flowery scent of Camelot's wildflower fields. Merlin, however, could not appreciate the warm weather. He still had no idea how to break the enchantment on the phoenix, as Kilgharrah decided to be unnecessarily vague the night before. Now, somehow, he had to find a way save the day. Again.

"Please be careful," Gwen said, reaching up to Arthur, who kissed her hand. Her voice reflected the worry of a queen who may never see her husband again.

"Don't worry, Gwen, I'll keep an eye on him," Merlin assured her.

"If that's the case, then I'm doomed," Arthur said, and earned a glare from his servant. At a wave from Arthur, Merlin gracelessly mounted his horse, and he and Arthur led the group out of the courtyard.

"I've saved your life more times than I've bothered keeping track." Merlin claimed, knowing full well that Arthur would not believe it, but he felt a little embarrassed and felt the need to correct it.

"Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe."

"Merlin, do you even know how to properly use a sword?" Gwaine cut in.

"Not… not exactly"

"A spear or a crossbow?" Percival, smiling mockingly.

"Well, I don't—"

"How about a simple dagger? Do you know how to wield a dagger?" Elyan asked, joining in on the game.

"Don't give him a dagger! He might hurt himself, or worse, us. Give him a butter knife, instead," Arthur suggested, and the knights roared with laughter. Merlin's mouth moved into a straight line, and looked at his master with eyes that said gee, thanks.

"Yes, I know how to use a dagger!" Merlin said. "You stab people with it!"

"It's a tad bit more complicated than that, friend," Gwaine said, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"Let Merlin be, he can handle himself," said Lancelot. Merlin turned to his friend to give him a thankful look. Only Lancelot knew about Merlin's magic, so he knew better than anyone how much he could handle himself.

"Have you met Merlin?" Arthur said, turning around to look at Lancelot. "He's completely useless. Not to mention he—" Arthur cut off mid-sentence, and his brows knit together. "Mordred, why are you riding the horse like that?"

Merlin paused to turn to look at Mordred, who was attempting to ride the horse by laying on his stomach, his legs dangling off one side and his arms and head dangling off the other. His red cape dragged in the mud behind him.

"Sir Gwaine said it was tradition… sire," Mordred said hesitantly, looking around at Gwaine, who was laughing so hard that he nearly fell off his horse. Mordred looked even more confused.

"Ah, yes. Have you switched your boots so they're on the wrong feet yet?" Arthur suggested, hiding a snicker.

"Sire?"

Merlin laughed silently, unlike the knights, who erupted in laughter. Shaking his head, he turned and made eye contact with the young druid, who began slowly reaching for his boots with a puzzled look on his face.

_"They're messing with you,_" Merlin spoke telepathically. 

_"Are… are you sure? I don't want to break tradition,_" Mordred responded, locking eyes with the warlock and pausing mid-reach for his boot.

_"Do you see anybody else sitting like that?"_

_"No… but Sir Gwaine said it was tradition for knights to do on their seventh mission… and I-"_

_"Mordred, they're messing with you. Trust me. No one's ever ridden like that… except you."_

_"Oh, okay." _ Mordred perked up, smiled, and turned so he was riding his horse normally. Merlin smiled back at the young knight.

"What are you two doing?" Arthur asked, confusion lathered in his face once again.

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked quickly, breaking eye contact with Mordred and turning his gaze to Arthur, assuming an innocent look.

"You two are sharing a look."

"No, we weren't."

Arthur leaned back on his horse and laughed. "Thank goodness you don't have anything important to keep secret, Merlin. You are terrible at keeping secrets," Merlin quickly broke eye contact and took deep breaths to prevent himself from giving a sarcastic reply.

Behind them, Lancelot barely succeeded in stifling a laugh.

"I think I'd surprise you," Merlin muttered to himself.

Arthur stopped suddenly and raised up an arm to stop the others. The knights and Merlin fell silent behind him.

"What is it?" Merlin asked in a loud whisper.

"Could be nothing. Could be something," Arthur said, dismounting his horse. His head was tilted up, gazing at the leaves above them.

"Yeah, that's not vague at all," Merlin grumbled, following Arthur's lead.

"There." Arthur pointed to a place overhead. The other knights dismounted their horses, shielded their eyes against the sun, and looked where Arthur's hand was pointed. Above them, on the canopy of leaves, was a great dark burn spot. The leaves there were blackened to the color of coal, and when the wind blowed, pieces of the leaves flew along with it.

"The phoenix," Leon breathed.

"It was here," Arthur nodded, "Its heading due East."

"Towards the Valley of the Fallen Kings? Why would it go there?" Elyan asked with a hint of fear in his voice. The Valley of Fallen Kings was rumored to be haunted, and was normally inhabited by thieves and other criminals.

"It must be where its master is," Merlin said.

"The sorcerer?" asked Gwaine.

"I still say Morgana is behind this," said Leon.

"Morgana wouldn't be so clumsy," said Arthur, shaking his head, "if she wanted to kill me, she wouldn't have sent something that could make mistakes. She would have wanted it done properly the first time."

"Even if it isn't Morgana, it's still a sorcerer. We need to be on guard," said Merlin, his face stern and serious. He understood the dangers of their journey, even if the others didn't.

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin," Arthur rolled his eyes.

"We've faced sorcerers before, and we've defeated sorcerers before. This one shall be no different," said Gwaine.

"Okay," Merlin shrugged, but he had a bad feeling about the idea, and his bad feelings had a tendency to come true.


	4. A Game of Friend or Foe

The journey was not difficult. The king and his knights of Camelot knew the woods like they knew how to fence, and the weather was cooperative. They arrived at the Valley of the Fallen Kings after a day of easy travel, and morale was light and carefree. Merlin was still worried about the phoenix, and it showed, but he was able to hide it beneath laughter and jokes.

Compared to the rest of the woods, the Valley of Fallen Kings was dark as night. The trees sloped down the steep valley, blocking sunlight with their wide branches, and the old statues vigilantly clutched swords and spears, moss covered and streaked with grime. The air was cooler and tasted like the sharp prick of rotting leaves and wet stone. There even seemed to be an absence of wildlife: no birds chirped in branches, no deer soundlessly stepped in the brush, no squirrels chattered in the leaves.

Arthur stopped the group with a flick of his hand, his gaze at the treetops again. He dismounted his horse, motioned for the others to do the same, and entered the Valley. Although it was not visible from the outside, once Merlin was inside the Valley, he could both see and smell burning trees.

The leaves were on fire, in hues of orange and red, and the odor was terrible, like the medicinal potions that Gaius made.

But as Merlin continued to stare at the burning canopy, he noticed that while the leaves were definitely burning, the fire did not spread, and the leaves never perished. They kept regrowing from their branches… like phoenixes from their ashes.

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Merlin quietly, his head tilted back and his hands clenched. Wind whistled through the trees to the side, and the group all snapped their heads around toward the sound. In that direction, the sound of a voice drifted from behind the hill.

"Arm yourself," whispered Arthur, ignoring Merlin's comment.

They crept silently through the brush, swords drawn, not daring to make a sound. As they crept forward, the voice grew louder, and louder, the words almost musical in their sound. Melodic. With each step, and even though he could not yet see it, Merlin could feel the magic cackling in the trees around him. There was great magic present, and it made him all the more uneasy as they approached.

The sound of a twig snapping echoed through the forest ahead of them. Arthur raised his hand, stopping the party where they stood.

He flicked his wrist and made several quick motions with his hand that were lost on the manservant. The knights—who clearly understood the king's command—slowly broke up and went in different directions; Mordred and Lancelot went to the right, Percival, Elyan, and Leon went to the left, and Gwaine and Arthur went forward. Merlin followed Gwaine and Arthur after a moment of vacillation.

"Stay behind us, Merlin," Gwaine said quietly, barely moving his lips as he spoke. His long dark hair fell into his face in thick strands.

Merlin didn't respond, only nervously glanced around at the dark and eerie woods, scarcely taking in a breath. He could feel the magic coursing through the air in rapid waves like heat, and he still had no idea how to break the enchantment.

Arthur raised his hand again, causing Gwaine to stop so abruptly that Merlin barely stopped himself from running into him.

Merlin stood straighter and peered over Arthur's shoulder.

The first thing he noticed was the bird, perched high in a tree above them, black as coal and obsidian. The chaotic waves of dark magic it was emanating overwhelmed Merlin's senses. A splitting headache throbbed at the base of his skull. Its plumage was darker than any color Merlin had ever seen, and its soulless black eyes were devoid of any light. It was as if it were a shadow, or a hole in reality, a place where darkness reigned instead of light.

"I know you are here." a voice rang out, musical and melodic, calculating and cold.

Merlin froze, his eyes slowly wandering about until a figure came into his view.

A woman was sitting in the middle of the clearing with her back to them. As soon as he faced her, his headache increased tenfold. The dark magic he sensed wasn't coming from the bird at all. It was coming from her.

She was the sorceress.

She had to be.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said calmly. Merlin scoffed loudly, and Lancelot gave him a quieting look.

"State your name and reason for passing through these woods," said Arthur, stepping in front of his knights, his sword pointing forward. The knights stood in formation behind him, their eyes searching for any signal from their king.

"They call me Hellawes," she smiled, rising lithely from her seat to face them. "I am a traveler. I'm merely passing through."

"Alone and unarmed?" Sir Gwaine asked doubtfully.

"Is that a crime?" she asked, meeting the knight's gaze.

"It is when you try to assassinate the king," Merlin retorted, his mouth screwed with distrust.

"Merlin, stay out of this," Arthur commanded, and Merlin obeyed, his eyes on the ground and his temper flaring.

"And what are the grounds for this accusation?" Hellawes asked softly.

"If you really are just passing through, where are you heading?" Arthur asked before Merlin could respond.

"The Isle of Mora," she responded.

"Why did you stop? The Valley of the Fallen Kings hardly seems like a place to rest when you are alone and unarmed," said Arthur. Bandits were prevalent in the Valley. Everyone in Camelot knew that.

"My feet were in pain. I am not young. I take a break when I need a break."

"What about your horses and luggage?" asked Gwaine, looking around for any items she may have had with her.

"Bandits."

Arthur regarded her for a few moments, keeping his sword pointed at her chest.

"I'm telling the truth."

"Sure you are," said Merlin sarcastically, his eyes narrowed.

"Stay quiet, Merlin," Arthur muttered through gritted teeth, elbowing Merlin rather hard in the ribs.

"The bird that tried to kill you is right there!" Merlin hissed back.

"What bird?" Hellawes overheard, seemingly puzzled.

"That one!" Merlin snapped, pointing to the black phoenix in the tree that was currently ruffling its feathers.

"Oh, you mean the raven," she said, a small, whimsical smile playing on her lips, her voice still infuriatingly light.

"Raven?" Merlin asked doubtfully, raising one eyebrow in his best impression of Gaius. The bird above had a hooked beak, long tail feathers, and slanted eyes. It nowhere resembled a raven.

"Yes, the poor dear approached my camp a fortnight ago. She was starving, so I fed her some of my bread. She's been following me ever since. I named her Medeis."

"Okay, first off, there is no way that is a raven," Merlin fumed. "Second-"

"Merlin," growled Arthur.

"Shut up?"

"Correct," Arthur confirmed before turning his attention back to the woman. "I'm sorry for this inconvenience, but I'm afraid that we will have to take you back to Camelot for further questioning and a trial. If you are found innocent, there will be nothing to worry about. We will send you on your way."

"Why? Is it illegal for me to travel? What crime have I committed? I have not wronged you in any way."

"I'm sorry, but it's way too much of a coincidence," Arthur said. "Two days ago a phoenix tried to kill me and my queen, and my knights and I tracked that bird here. And seeing as you're the only one here, and though you claim to be travelling you are both unarmed and without luggage-"

"I told you I was robbed by bandits," she interrupted, her face pleading.

"-it seems like the evidence is pointed against you. You and the phoenix can come peacefully-"

"It's a raven!" she insisted.

"-Or we will have to use force. My knights have surrounded the area. It's your choice." Arthur finished.

"Maybe you're not as much of an idiot than initially thought," Merlin mused. Arthur rolled his eyes, but kept his focus on Hellawes.

"Are you coming with us peacefully or forcefully? Please don't make this hard on yourself," Arthur said, his voice flat.

"I will not be going anywhere with you, Arthur Pendragon," she said, her voice turning cold and bitter. Her lip curled up, showing crooked teeth, and her voice lost its soft, melodic tinge.

"So forcefully, then," Arthur sighed, twitching his head at the knights, who began to move in towards Hellawes, swords at the ready.

"It would seem so," she responded, but something was... off. The air vibrated noticeably, and it grew cold. Very cold. Merlin stared right at Hellawes, his breath condensing in white wisps. _What are you doing, sorceress?_ He thought, confusion and fear spreading through his mind. A small, menacing smile danced at her lips.

"Then you leave me no choice. Hellawes, you are under arrest for-"

A deafening crack echoed with the hills. Arthur's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground, his sword slipping from between his fingers.

Sir Gwaine stood above him, the rock he had used to knock Arthur out still in his hand.

With his eyes blank, he turned to Hellawes.

"What are your instructions, my lady?"


	5. Plight of Hellawes

A smothering silence covered the group like thick molasses. Merlin looked around wildly, in shock at Arthur's still body, in confusion at the knights' glazed-over eyes. The only other person that wasn't in a trance was Mordred, who as looking at him in an expression that mirrored his own. His gaze landed on Hellawes, whose triumphant smile confirmed his suspicions: the knights were under a spell. As soon as he came to this conclusion, Hellawes' head turned to look at him, and seeing that he was not under her spell, frowned and muttered under her breath. Gold flashed in her eyes like the quick flash of lightning on a darkened night. As Merlin began to walk backwards towards Mordred, the knights snapped their heads towards him. They all began to move in, closing the circle around the two.

"Merlin, what's happening?" Mordred asked with a nervous edge to his voice, his light eyes searching Merlin for answers. He slowly moved closer to Merlin, and his hand immediately went to his sword, but he didn't draw. He kept his hand on the hilt and looked at his friends approaching —with eyes blank and weapons drawn.

"She's the sorceress. She's taken control of them," said Merlin, holding his hands up in an I am unarmed position, hoping that they wouldn't hurt him if he was unarmed, however unlikely that was. The group began to close in, and Mordred finally drew his sword with a singing twang and a flash of furnished silver. The leaves crunched underneath their boots as they neared, and soon they were so close to Merlin and Mordred that they could almost feel the wind of their breath.

The knights all raised their swords and brought them down on the two unaffected members.

Mordred raised his sword and almost buckled under the force of four knights meeting the blade. The resulting sound was so loud that it shook the treetops. Mordred twisted the blade and dived underneath their swords, causing the knights to stumble forward. Merlin whispered a spell to slow the knights as his friend got to his feet.

"Kill them!" Hellawes shrieked, and the barrage increased in frequency and intensity, and soon poor Mordred was on his knees, desperately protecting Merlin as well as himself. Swords clanged with such force that the horses reared back on their feet, eyes rolling in panic. Mordred grunted and gritted his teeth as he endured blow after blow after blow from the knights, but he couldn't last much longer. The knights had completely surrounded them, and there were no means of escape. They were going to die if they didn't stop the attack. Merlin closed his eyes, breathed, and a spell came from the depths of his mind. Hoping that it would do something good, he whispered it, his eyes turned gold like Camelot's sunrises, and all the knights froze. Mordred stopped for a moment, confused, and then realized what Merlin had done. They both stepped past the knights' circle of attack and turned towards Hellawes.

At least, where Hellawes used to be.

"She's taking Arthur!" Merlin yelled, sprinting in the direction where she was last. He stopped at the top of the hill, used his magic to locate the elusive sorceress and turned back to Mordred. In that time, the spell had worn off and all the knights were, once again, trying to murder them both.

"Go! I'll hold them off!" Mordred grunted, blocking both Gwaine's and Elyan's swords simultaneously. They pushed forward and Mordred began to slide backwards. It didn't seem like he was having much luck holding them off.

"How are you possibly going to-"

"Hellawes cannot hold this spell for long. It must be draining her. I'll be able to hold my own until the enchantment breaks. Now go!" he turned to the side suddenly, leaving the enchanted knights to fall to the ground, but the next moment, two more were on him. Mordred looked over ferociously and glared at Merlin.

_You have to go._ Mordred told him firmly.

Merlin hesitated for a moment, emotions conflicting across his face in waves, but then he turned and ran after Hellawes, because when it came to it, Arthur was who he needed, and Arthur who he protected.

"Arthur!" Merlin yelled, his eyes ablaze with fury. He was atop the hill, and Hellawes was below, Arthur dragging behind her. There was a snow-white horse tied to a tree nearby, and she was evidently going to load the king up on the horse and ride away. Merlin began to run down the hill to the kidnapper, armed only with his anger and knowledge of magic.

Hellawes' head snapped around, her eyes narrowing when they landed on him. Merlin pursed his lips and zeroed in on Arthur. He ran forward, a spell behind his lips and rage in his eyes.

"_Wáce ierlic!_" she hissed. A burst of air collided with Merlin like a brick wall, and the spell on his lips died like a put-out fire. The momentum of Hellawes' spell threw him in the air, turning the world on its side, and then he crashed, painfully smashing his knee on a large boulder. He gasped in pain but still struggled to his feet, ready to cast a spell of his own.

"_Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!_" Hellawes shouted. The air warped around her and Arthur, and then they were just gone with the lingering smell of magic.

"No! Arthur!" Merlin lurched forward to where they used to be, futility grasping at the empty air. Soon even the magic dissipated.

He stood there, frozen to the spot, as his stomach clenched sickeningly. He bit his lip until the skin broke and bled.

"Merlin… Mate, what happened?" Gwaine came stumbling out from the trees, rubbing his head and looking rather disoriented. He was sporting a sizable black eye as well.

Merlin flicked his eyes up at Gwaine before returning them to the ground.

He took a deep breath and let all the air out of his lungs.

"The sorceress is gone. And she's taken Arthur."


	6. A Name as Old as Time

They had to practically drag Mordred all the way to Camelot. He was injured and infuriated that Arthur was gone, and it took the effort of three knights just to hold him back from running off to rescue Arthur single-handedly. Not too soon afterwards he fell unconscious, and they loaded him onto a horse along with the enchanted phoenix, who was completely frozen, having no orders from his mistress.

Merlin walked through the door of Gaius' chambers with a bird cage in his arms and a somber expression. The Court Physician's workroom always smelled of herbs and oak-wood, of light and must and the strong scent of brewing concoctions, and normally it calmed Merlin, but not now, when Arthur was gone. He walked in with the mood of a dark storm, and Gaius could almost sense it, it seemed. His guardian looked up from the potions he was brewing and his brow furrowed.

"The sorceress just… took him, Gaius. One second they were there, and the next… gone," Merlin sighed, shutting the door behind him with his foot and setting down the phoenix's cage. Gaius nodded once.

"What did the sorceress say her name was?" Gaius asked, leaving the potion and grabbing a large tome from a wooden shelf.

"Hellawes," Merlin responded. "You haven't heard of her, have you?"

"Actually, I have," Gaius said, a grim note behind his words.

"What?"

"Hellawes was a powerful sorceress during the time of the old religion," Giaus said slowly, pulling a few more dusty books off the shelf. "Before the Great Purge, she was known to use her gifts to enchant, kidnap, or even assassinate others for a price. Her loyalty could be bought for a small sack of gold."

"What happened after the purge?" Merlin asked, taking one of the books and searching through it, looking for any mention of Hellawes' name.

"Many sorcerers either fled Camelot, went into hiding, or were executed. She disappeared off the face of the Earth once Uther started slaughtering all those who practiced magic. Many thought her to be dead."

"So… you think she kidnapped Arthur for revenge?" Merlin asked.

"It's possible, but I doubt it. Hellawes was never one to get her hands dirty unless she got something in return. I'd say it's much more probable that someone paid her to bring Arthur to them," Gaius said.

"Morgana," Merlin breathed, his hands frozen in the middle of turning a page.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Merlin," Gaius scolded, flicking his eyes over to the young warlock.

"But it has to be her! Who else would want to kidnap Arthur?"

"Many people would! Merlin, he's the king of Camelot. Perhaps a neighboring kingdom hired her."

"Well, we have no way of knowing, now do we?" Merlin snapped. He ran his fingers through his hair, slammed the book closed, and began to pace back and forth. "She's gone and she's taken Arthur. She teleported. It's impossible to track someone when they teleport."

The chambers went silent as the stables at night.

"Perhaps not…" Gaius trailed off. He turned around and pulled another book off the shelf, rifling through the pages.

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked.

"The phoenix. You brought it back to Camelot with you, did you not?" Gaius asked.

"Yes…" Merlin said hesitantly, gesturing at the cage on the table.

"It's still enchanted. But if you were to break the enchantment…"

"...Then it can tell me where they went! Gaius, you're a genius!" Merlin said, jumping up from his chair. He began to shrug his jacket on.

"Merlin," Gaius called. Merlin stopped halfway out the door, the birdcage swinging from his hand.

"Yes?"

"Are you forgetting something?"

"No?" Merlin said hesitantly, his eyes sweeping side to side. Gaius rolled his eyes.

"You don't know how to break the enchantment."

"Maybe not, but I might know someone who does," Merlin said quietly.

* * *

"_O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!_" Merlin yelled, running out into the field. He waited for a few minutes, pacing and scowling at the sky. Eventually a large winged figure shadowed the moon and set itself down on the grass. Kilgharrah smiled astutely on Merlin, folding his wings behind his back.

"Hello, young warlock. I see you have caught the phoenix."

"What was your first clue?" Merlin asked sarcastically, still holding the cage containing the bird, who was still as stone.

"You returned with the bird, but without the king," Kilgharrah said, ignoring Merlin's comment.

"I need to know how to break the enchantment on the bird."

"You are very wise, woung warlock. Wiser than most give you credit for. If you truly wish to free the phoenix, then the answer shall come to you. Soon enough-"

"Just tell me!"

Killgarah flinched slightly in surprise.

"There is great power in a name, Merlin. To take control of the creature, she named it something atrocious. Something only she knew. In order to break the enchantment, you must give it a new name. Do that, and from that point on it shall listen to you instead of her."

"Name it. That's all I have to do," Merlin said incredulously, throwing his hands up in the air. "Why couldn't you have just told me that the first time we talked?!"

"Answers are much more meaningful when you reach them yourself," Kilgarah replied, opening his wings to prepare to fly away.

"I think I would have found it pretty meaningful if you had just told me to begin with," Merlin grumbled, glaring daggers at the dragon.

"One day, perhaps you will understand. Farewell young warlock."

Merlin scowled at the dragon's retreating form, muttering bitterly under his breath. Now he had to go figure out what to name this… bird.

* * *

"Alright… alright…" Merlin groaned, rubbing his hands over his face and sitting on his bed. The black phoenix gazed at him. "How does this work? I just pick a random name off the top of my head? Does it have to mean something? Do you have to like it? Dislike it? How does this work?"

The bird, being a bird, did not reply.

Merlin sighed. He gazed back at the phoenix's eyes, hoping for an answer there, but they were glazed over from the enchantment, just as the knights' had been. He broke his gaze and looked instead at the bird's feathers, shining black like a dark night. He cocked his head and turned to the side, letting the torchlight dance on the enchanted feathers like twinkling starlight.

He paused.

Starlight…

"How about Astruem?" Merlin said after a minute, bending down so his eyes were level with the bird's. "It means 'star' and 'glory' in a language as old as time." He looked back into the phoenix's blank eyes, but underneath, there seemed to be a spark—a spark as beautiful as the stars. "I name you, phoenix: Astruem."

In an instant the bird transformed, a bright fire encompassing it as bright as the sun. The dancing, blazing flames started black as obsidian, but slowly changed to cornflower blue, then to satin white, then to a beautiful crimson mottled with orange and candlelight yellow. And just like the flames, its feathers changed as well, exploding in a mass of colors: red and blue and orange and yellow, until it was so bright that Merlin was forced to turn away.

It soared through the air, spinning and twirling as graceful as a dancer, before settling itself on Merlin's shoulder. When he looked into its eyes now, they were no longer glazed-over, but intelligent and full of life... full of the spark of starlight.

"Alright," Merlin said, giving Astruem a small smile. "Let's go get Arthur back."


	7. A Bittersweet End

Merlin stole food from the kitchen, a horse from the stables, his spell book from underneath his bed, and left hours before the dawn. The air was cold and humid and sticky and smelled of soggy lilacs and stone dust. It was a moonless night, and so dark that Merlin had to enhance his vision with a moderately complicated spell. He told the phoenix to dim down its brightness to avoid the interests any traveler who happened to traipse on by, and they rode for hours, their minds connected lightly like the links of a glass chain. They conversed mentally for a while, not by words, but by images and feelings.

Astruem spoke of a deep sadness that dated back to the beginning of time, just like her namesake.

Merlin spoke of feeling trapped within his role at the castle: a dim-witted manservant that accomplished nothing and was the laughing stock of the knights.

She whispered in his mind, her thoughts and feelings hot and soft, like dying firelight, kind and understanding.

Flying ahead, she sniffed out Hellawes' scent and directed him towards her path. Teleportation left a residual magical energy mark that only the most powerful creatures could detect, apparently. Astruem led him into the thicket of the forest, and soon he even stopped recognising his surroundings. Dawn arose, and the sun crept across the sky, only to be shrouded with dark clouds. At around noon it poured so hard that it was impossible to see, and they took shelter in a nearby cave.

Astruem turned her elegant head around, her intelligent eyes scanning the darkness behind them. Merlin rubbed the rain from his eyes and squinted into the darkness. He flicked his eyes over to the phoenix. _What do you see?_

_We have arrived. Your friend is in here._

_In there? Are you sure?_ Merlin asked, eyeing the tunnel nervously.

The phoenix nodded, and took off from the damp stone. She opened her wings and brightened like an oil lamp, illuminating the tunnel ahead of them as well as if she were sunlight. She prompted him to follow and flew ahead in a streak of red and orange.

"Of course they're somewhere dark and ominous and scary," Merlin griped. "It never can be easy, can it?"

_"See if you can find Hellawes, I'm going to get Arthur… Can you still hear me?_ Merlin asked.

_Yes, Astruem replied._ The link in his mind shifted, and she showed him what she was seeing. She could sense Hellawes' magic in one tunnel, but she could smell Arthur in the other tunnel. _Go, and have the best of luck._

Merlin turned his focus back to his friend.

Arthur was sitting, unconscious, deep in the tunnel, slumped against the wall, his hands chained high above his head and his sword discarded nearby. Merlin gasped quietly and held his hand, which was dancing with a magical flame, closer to the king. He looked at Arthur's chafed wrists, trapped in the cuffs.

"_Tospringe,_" Merlin whispered. The chains opened with a metallic click and Arthur fell forward, landing in a heap on the floor. He lit a torch nearby with his hand and placed it against the wall.

"Come on, dollop head, wake up… wake up…" Merlin said quietly, shaking the unconscious king back and forth urgently. When he refused to stir, Merlin slapped him smartly across the face.

Arthur's eyes shot open.

"Merlin, what…where... did you just slap me?!" Arthur exclaimed incredulously. He pushed Merlin's hands away and attempted to sit up, but he winced and let himself sink back to the floor.

"Of course not, don't be daft," said Merlin, smirking slightly.

"Where are we?" Arthur groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

"On the border between Camelot and Cenred's kingdom." Merlin grabbed the king's arms, hoisting him to his unsteady feet. Merlin's eyes drifted up to Arthur's head, where dried, dark red blood stained his pale hair. "Easy, you're hurt."

"I'm fine," Arthur grunted, who was leaning heavily on Merlin, and was obviously not fine. "Where's my sword?"

"Right here." Merlin nudged it closer with his foot before reaching down and returning it to Arthur. Arthur fumbled with it for a few moments before sliding it into his sheath.

As Merlin dragged him along, Arthur skeptically glanced at their surroundings and gathered his bearings.

"Are my knights outside?" asked Arthur, swinging his head back and forth, looking about.

"Not exactly," Merlin grunted.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'? Where are they?"

"Back in Camelot…" Merlin replied hesitantly.

Arthur froze where he stood. He grabbed Merlin's arm and whipped him around to face him. "Are you meaning to tell me… that you came here alone?!"

"Yes?"

"You are a complete and utter imbecile!"

"Yes, sire." Merlin rolled his eyes and turned, continuing with their escape. Arthur huffed and followed, having recovered enough to hobble on his own.

"Why would you come here alone? What if you got hurt?"

"I didn't know you cared, I'm flattered," Merlin said sarcastically. He paused before two different tunnels before trusting his gut and taking the one on the right. Arthur limped faster and caught up with him.

"I'm serious."

"Well, if I got hurt, then you'd be able to replace me with a competent servant."

"True, you are pretty lousy," Arthur grumbled.

Merlin rolled his eyes and was about to retort when a loud, animal-like shriek pierced the air.

Arthur's head whipped around, his hand immediately going to his sword. "What was that?"

"Probably the phoenix."

"You didn't deal with the phoenix?" Arthur snapped, his eyes wide with fury.

"It's warning us that the sorceress has realized we've escaped," Merlin muttered. His eyes frantically darted towards another pair of tunnels, trying to choose which one to take. He picked one at random and hurried his friend through it.

"You… you didn't deal with the sorceress or the phoenix?" Arthur sputtered angrily. "Do you even have a plan?!"

"I'm working on it!" Merlin shot back.

"Oh, thank the heavens. Merlin's working on a plan," Arthur retorted sarcastically. "I feel so much safer already. The sorceress might as well give up now."

"Will you shut up? I'm trying to focus!" Merlin snapped.

"Oh, so you're giving me orders now? I don't know if you've noticed, Merlin, but that's not how this works. I give you orders, and you-"

"Oh will you just-"

"Halt!" a voice shouted from in front of them.

The pair skidded to a stop. Hellawes stood at the tunnel exit, her red face livid with anger.

"Merlin, get behind me," Arthur demanded. He shoved Merlin back with one hand and drew his sword with the other, but he was slower than normal.

"And where do you think you're going, Arthur Pendragon?" she hissed, her eyes full of malice.

"Step aside and let me and my servant pass. I have no quarrel with you," Arthur said, pointing his sword towards her chest. He swayed on his feet slightly, and his face blanched. He looked just about ready to pass out.

"You say that, yet you hunt down my people and slaughter them like animals; just because you do not understand their ways."

"I am not my father," Arthur replied coolly.

"I think you are like him in more ways than you think, Pendragon," she said icily. "Lady Morgana will see that you get what you deserve."

"Called it!" Merlin interrupted, smiling recklessly. "Just in case anyone wondering, I totally called it."

Both Hellawes and Arthur ignored him.

Arthur pressed his lips together tightly, not taking his eyes off of the sorceress. "My sister's behind this?"

"She was willing to pay me a nice sum for your head," Hellawes said smugly. She walked closer, and her lip curled in contempt.

Arthur contemplated her for a moment before slowly sheathing his sword and raising his hands in surrender.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Merlin hissed, grabbing at his arm.

"I'll come with you. But let my servant go. He doesn't deserve this."

Hellawes narrowed slightly as they landed on Merlin. She smiled slowly, a calculating, malicious smile. "No… I don't think I will. _Folge min bebod!_"

"Arthur!" Merlin tackled Arthur to the side just as the spell ripped through the air where they had been standing, tearing the rocky wall behind them to pieces. The smell of rock dust filled the air and smothered their lungs.

Merlin raised his hand towards the sorceress, trying desperately to think of a spell, but his mind was eluding him. Hellawes was still smiling that awful smile as she approached, her eyes golden as she began to chant a complicated enchantment. Just as he began to utter the words to a stunning spell, a blur of crimson and gold swooped down from the sky, straight towards Hellawes, setting her robes on fire.

_Go, my young friend. Go!_ Astruem called to Merlin. Hellawes cried out in shock and stumbled back and began to try to put out her fiery clothing. Astruem continued her attack, swooping at the sorceress and setting the rock around her on fire that was as blue as the sky.

All of a sudden, it was very hot in the cavern, and it was getting hotter.

"Come on! Run!" Merlin shouted, pulling at Arthur's sleeve.

"What happening?"

"The phoenix is distracting her! We need to get out of here!" Merlin urged Arthur, but he didn't budge.

"I thought the bird was on the side of the sorceress!"

"It must have switched sides! How convenient! Now run!"

Merlin shoved Arthur along, glancing back at the battling pair. Hellawes screamed curses at the traitorous bird, casting as many spells and enchantments that she could think of. Merlin glanced into the link in his mind, and he could feel her anger. Astruem wasn't just giving them time to escape… she was seeking vengeance. Astruem continued to dodge and twirl gracefully through the air—as if it was all just one meticulous dance—burning pieces of Hellawes' skin and clothing whenever she was able to get close.

Hellawes shrieked one last spell directed towards the beautiful, terrible, bird—one that contained so much dark magic it made Merlin's hair stand up on end—before teleporting away in a violent whirlwind of black magic.

The blinding light from both the spells made Merlin look away, and when he looked back, his heart dropped to his stomach.

Astruem was lying still on the ground, her wings bent at odd angles.

Merlin's breath hitched.

"No!" Merlin turned and ran back towards Astruem's motionless form, ignoring Arthur calling his name behind him.

He fell to his knees next to the bird, his eyes burning as if they were on fire.

Dead.

She was dead.

She had saved both Merlin and Arthur, but Merlin wasn't able to save her. She was flying around in the most beautiful show of color and light he had ever seen—and now she was dead. His hands trembled as he held the bird, gently stroking her feathers. Her eyes were now as lifeless and dull as they had been when she was under the enchantment, but her feathers still burned with the light of a thousand suns. But as he watched, even her feathers faded to a muted yellow.

She was still warm.

His magic probably wouldn't even be able to heal her—not now that she was dead—but he couldn't even try—because Arthur was there and Arthur couldn't see his magic—and—she was gone—he couldn't even feel her thoughts-

"Merlin?"

Merlin jumped as a hand rested on his shoulder Arthur's voice was soft. And kind.

"She… she…" Merlin choked, tears running down his face.

"You really have a thing for magical creatures, huh? First the unicorn, and now this… raven…" Arthur noted, trying in his own way to comfort his friend.

"Phoenix!" Merlin barked. "She was a phoenix! And she saved both of our lives!"

Arthur held his hands up in front of him in mock surrender. "I'm a king, Merlin. Not some… keeper of birds."

Merlin chuckled dryly. "I don't think that there's such a job."

"Probably not," Arthur agreed.

Merlin rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. "You're real rubbish at comforting people, you know."

"Oh, don't be such a girl, Merlin." Arthur hoisted Merlin to his feet, giving both him and Astruem's body odd looks; as if he couldn't possibly comprehend why someone would cry over an animal. "We should get going," he added in a quiet, calm voice.

"Yeah," Merlin wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Merlin gave Astruem one final, sorrowful glance before turning and following his king.

He felt for the glass link in his mind, but it was shattered. He swallowed sharply and sent her one last message anyway.

_Thank you, my dear friend. Thank you for everything._

He would never forget her, no matter what.


	8. Epilogue

"You're empty handed," the cloaked woman said, an icy anger distorting her voice.

"The boy… he… he somehow freed my bird… he used her to free the Pendragon…I do not know how." Hellawes voice quivered in fear.

"You were thwarted by a mere serving boy?" the woman's voice rose in pitch, and she rose from her seat.

She turned to face the sorceress before her, the light from the fireplace illuminating Morgana's features as the flames danced wickedly in the whites of her eyes.

"He was no mere serving boy, my lady. He was-"

"Silence! I care not for your excuses," Morgana hissed, taking her dagger out of her cloak and putting it against Hellawes' neck. Hellawes whimpered as Morgana pressed it harder and harder into her skin.

Morgona removed the dagger after a minute and turned back to the fireplace, her hands folded behind her back. "You may go. Pray that our paths will not cross again. Next time I will not be so merciful."

"Thank you, thank you my lady!" Hellawes breathed in relief. She bowed, handed over the coins she was given to retrieve Arthur, and teleported away with a residual smell of black magic.

Morgana screamed in anger, magic amplifying her voice until the stones in the fireplace shook. She swept her hand across the table in front of her, sending cobwebbed cups and trays flying. Morgana took the dagger in her hand and stabbed it into the table, letting the metal pierce the old wood. Her eyes flashed, and the blade grew. It elongated and stretched until it was as large and sturdy as a sword, the firelight shining on it like water. Morgana swiftly drew her finger along the edge of the sword, and a pencil-thin cut appeared on her finger, dripping blood red as a sunrise.

"If you want something done right," Morgona mused, her voice melodious and dangerous, "do it yourself."

* * *

The cave was cooler at night, crisper. The rain made it stuffy and humid, and the ground was rough like a craggly mountain. Wind whistled through the tunnels like a wooden flute, airy and beautiful.

Astruem was on her side, eyes open, her wings bent strangely and her heart still. Her feathers were dark and colorless, and her brightness was gone. Soon even the torch leaning against the wall began to fade,

Fade,

Fade.

It was darker than the blackest of nights, and darker than any prison. The wind slowly grew quieter and quieter until it stopped completely.

Suddenly, a light brighter than the moon burst forth.

Astruem was on fire.

The still body of the phoenix burned brighter than the starlight for which she was named. The light grew in its bright intensity until all the tunnels in the caves were illuminated.

Then, as fast as it started, it ceased, leaving the cavern as dark as it was before.

Astruem's still body was reduced to a small pile of ashes, dark as coal.

A sudden gust of wind spread the ashes like pollen, and soon there was no ashes left, but there was something left on the craggly floor.

The thing lifted its small, fragile head and opened its eyes, but it could see nothing. It cawed quietly, and its voice echoed in the caverns, but it received no response.

It spread its tiny wings, and they caught aflame, and the newly born phoenix flew out of the caves, its little voice whispering a thank you from a young sorcerer in a castle far away.

She flew out into the night.


End file.
